


God Enthroned Shows Himself To Hildegard

by lythly



Category: Hildegard von Bingin, Scivias
Genre: Canon Lesbian Character, Christianity, Exhibitionism, Eyes, F/F, Lots of eyes, Masturbation, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-14
Updated: 2020-10-14
Packaged: 2021-03-08 23:22:27
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,254
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27014959
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lythly/pseuds/lythly
Summary: The Fear of God has been with Hildegard von Bingen constantly, and it is inconvenient. Hildegard finally experiences release in her love of God, with The Fear of Gods eyes upon her the entire time.
Relationships: Hildegard von Bingen/Fear Of God
Kudos: 5





	God Enthroned Shows Himself To Hildegard

**Author's Note:**

> Hildegard von Bingen is an absolutely astounding 11th century nun who invented inventing languages, wrote tons of music and some of the only dark ages plays we have record of, and ran multiple monasteries, having declared that God said it was fine for her to be in charge as a woman because the frailty of women was beloved by God.
> 
> Oh, also she was probably a lesbian who lived with and loved a fellow nun, but if you say that all the straight medievalist dudes have kittens. She produced the oldest Western European description we have of a female orgasm ("soon the woman's sexual organs contract, and all the parts that are ready to open up during the time of menstruation now close, in the same way as a strong man can hold something enclosed in his fist"), so I hope she would forgive me my own writings.
> 
> Reading the description of her visions in Scivias (http://www.columbia.edu/itc/english/f2003/client_edit/documents/scivias.html) I could help but feel like there was a scene missing. I've always had a thing for ophanim, ever since A Wind In The Door, and so, with apologies, here is fan fiction of 850-year-old fan fiction of a two-thousand-year-old fan fiction of something several thousand years older than that.

She watched me, this being of eyes. Ever since I had become aware of her presence, she was always there. Others did not seem to see her, but she followed me. She judged me as I went about the business of the day and stood by my bedside watching while I slept. 

I tried to ignore her, but it had now been two months since I had touched myself and my sleep had become restless. I dreamed of eyes, and mouths, and breasts. I awoke sweating, with a hunger no bread would satisfy.

“To think the thought is to sin against God,” the eyes told me.

“But I can not control my dreams!” I cried in anguish.

“Not that,” the eyes replied. “Gluttony. The feast you imagined, when your neighbors starve. Breasts and mouths and eyes, those God created for your pleasure.”

“For my pleasure? But are not pleasures of the flesh Eve’s original sin?”

“Her sin was also gluttony, the substitution of consumption for that abundance which God had granted her. Did you think Eve and Adam never touched, there in the garden?”

“I did not know. There is no word of it.”

“For the writers had the taste of apple in their mouths and could not bear to gaze upon their nakedness without mortification. But I am the Fear of God. I have tasted no apple, and I have seen eons of nakedness without shame.”

“You do not blink away from my nudity?” I said, moving my blankets away that she might see my body, pale in the moonlight.

“I blink away from the shame and the sin. But the moments when you are alone, when you know no human looks upon you, then I gaze unblinking upon that which God hath wrought and find it beautiful.”

I blush, and the eyes blink.

“This shame you have been taught, it is blasphemy. Look upon me; do I offer shame?”

I look. Eyes, that is all I can see, but they are soft and sure. She meets my gaze and holds it. There is not one among the multitude that is downcast or embarrassed by my form. I feel my breath quicken in response to her confidence.

“I know what you want, and I tell you that it is no sin, here before me in wonderment and awe. It is right that you should feel exultation before the Fear of God. You have refrained since you have known me, but I have seen it in your mind these many nights and judge you not.”

“Tell me,” I say, and I find I am breathless.

“You shall let your hand drift to your collarbone, and caress your own neck where the two meet. Your heart beats faster, and I watch the skin indent from the warm pressure of thumb to skin and the muscle below.”

I do as my Fear of God instructs, holding her gaze while my skin warms to my touch.

“Your hands shall drift lower to your breasts, of which you have dreamt. They are small, for they will never suckle a babe, but they are devoted to the reverence of God and their weight is the weight of your devotion.”

I run my thumbs over my devotions, and shudder, closing my eyes.

“Look at me,” she commands. I meet the hundreds and thousands of eyes upon me, each watching my nipples harden in response to the order. My breath is tight in my throat. 

“You will not look away from the Fear of God. It is I that quickens your blood and sits sweetly upon your tongue, and it is I who shall fill you with a force of divinity such as you have never known.”

My cunt wets in anticipation at her words, and without thinking I let my legs fall open.

“You shall leave one hand upon your breast, but the other shall roam lower.”

My stomach is sensitive to my warm palm, but it is her eyes widening in anticipation that makes me bite my lower lip. I go slowly, stroking the inside of my thigh, opening myself before her.

“You are beautiful,” the Fear of God proclaims. “I have seen all things and none surpass the beauty of your faith and trust. You shall touch your wetness now, and stroke yourself slowly, that I may see your joy.”

I do as my Fear commands, and clutch my breast at the pleasure so long denied. I do not look away again. I do not waver from the commands she has given, though I ache now for release. I have faith.

“Now, your fingers find your pleasure, that hidden rod that serves no other purpose than this before us. Deep within you shall find its base, and your touch there shall rouse you to my purpose.”

I plunge my fingers into my yearning and I land upon that spot of which she spoke. It is within that which I thought to be most sinful that I find the spark of the divine. I rise up then, but still I look upon her and she upon me. As long as she is looking it can not be sin. Truly, only God could grant me such pleasure as I feel radiate from that which swells at my touch.

“And you shall draw your hand unto the very crest. There you shall find the rhythm of Elohim, as I instruct.”

My fingers obey as the Fear Of God begins to pulse, expanding and contracting in a pattern more ancient than humanity can comprehend. My faith rushes to my ears, pounding through my veins, stealing from me all speech and reason save that granted to me through faith in the eyes before me.

I realize I am wide open before her gaze, my cunt spread to the sky, my clitoris swollen beneath my fingers, hidden and then revealed over and over as I knead with the pattern of the universe. I see myself as she sees me, a creation of our shared Lord. It is her gaze that pins me upon this bed. It is her gaze that fills my longing, stretches me wide and deep, and within I feel the same rhythm I maintain upon my peak. I gasp and long to throw my head back, but instead I breath and watch her watching me, for I have not been commanded. It becomes unbearable, and yet I endure.

“Please,” I gasp, grabbing both my aching breasts together in a grip as tight as vengeance. 

“Have faith,” she says, “You shall let go and grab the headboard.” 

I do, and in that moment of absence, in the act of submission the love of God overcomes me. My mouth opens to scream, but my eyes are locked upon this force driving me, taking me, making me a vessel for that most holy. That pulsing rhythm speeds itself along my dripping cunt and I can feel it inside and out. My toes curl and then spread with the divine light that pours from my skin. Everything contracts to a single point of light, there among the eyes and I explode, gushing my devotions towards her, my God.

For what I saw in that moment that my Fear of God is God Himself, the same in substance and being. Both have watched my pleasure unblinking and unashamed.

“You are beautiful, my creation” she says, as, spent, I at last close my eyes and give myself to sleep, still warm with the love of my God.


End file.
